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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941689">takes ahold of my tongue in situations like these</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/couriersexy/pseuds/couriersexy'>couriersexy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Metal Gear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking, M/M, except its medic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:47:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/couriersexy/pseuds/couriersexy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaz has never actually talked to this medic. Not outside of missions or the not-so-rare occasion that Kaz was sick (from overworking, usually, which only prompts the medic to always give him the same “exhaustion isn’t exactly the right circumstances for your work ethic, commander” spiel) at least.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kazuhira Miller/Venom Snake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>takes ahold of my tongue in situations like these</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the titles from shake the disease depeche mode</p><p>i love comments .. 🖤</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Right about now is the time Snake’s warning that he should stop “messing around, hrngn” is usually playing like a broken record in Kaz’s head. But usually he’s not standing outside of a MSF monthly birthday party with the 6’5” medic that’s oh so kindly passing a bottle of the good whiskey between himself and Kaz. So, the XO figures he can treat himself just once. If he’s lucky that is.</p><p>“So,” Kaz starts as soon as the lull in conversation reaches the point of almost meaningful, ”Where did you dig this up from anyway?” he says, sloshing the remainder of the liquid around the bottle. </p><p>“Oh, y’know,” the medic says, with a slight shrug of a shoulder, a wink as an end to the sentence. Kaz does not know. </p><p>He nods like he does anyway.</p><p>Kaz has never actually talked to this medic. Not outside of missions or the not-so-rare occasion that Kaz was sick (from overworking, usually, which only prompts the medic to always give him the same “exhaustion isn’t exactly the right circumstances for your work ethic, commander” spiel) at least. He’s interesting, though. Gruff in a way that’s not intimidating, gentle in a way that tells you the same hands he uses to carefully pry patients’ eyes away from severe wounds are the ones he uses to slit the throats of men he’s never met, never spoken to. Something about his quiet footsteps and trained stare makes him similar to Snake. </p><p>This time it’s the other man that speaks up, nudging the commanders foot before saying, “Did you honestly come out of your cave tonight just to humor your favorite doctor, or are you heading into the party soon?” </p><p>And, honestly? Kaz was supposed to meet one of the Intel team members inside at least half an hour ago. </p><p>“Got lost on my way to the beach, doc. It’s the least I can do to steal some of this. Wherever it’s from.” </p><p>“Uh-huh,” is what he gets in return. But if the smirk on the medic’s face is indicative of anything, Kaz supposes he got his goal. </p><p>And just like that the only sounds are the familiar beat of the waves against the pillars of the platform and the muffled chorus of whatever song they’re playing inside. Occasionally there’s the slosh of alcohol in the bottle, or a huff of laughter from Kaz at the other man tapping his fingers against the ground to the beat of the songs.</p><p>After another grueling amount of meaningful silence the medic looks up with a, “Hey, commander? D’you know how to dance?” </p><p>For all of Kaz’s overwhelming charisma and tact for knowing just what people are going to say next, somehow the tall, ridiculously intelligent and out of his league medic asking Kaz if he knew how to dance was... at least top twenty of “Things Kazuhira Miller thinks have no chance of ever happening”. Right next to Huey and Strangelove getting together. </p><p>“Obviously,” Kaz retorts, “Honestly, doc, I’m kinda offended you even have to ask.” </p><p>There’s a very noticeable and satisfying blush on the doctor’s face now. Whether it’s from the slightly warmed whiskey or Kaz’s response is up to a coin toss. </p><p>“Mmhmm,” he responds, like he’s carefully thinking of his next words. There’s an almost calculating glint to his eyes now, like he’s planning out an infiltration instead of flirting with his Sub-Commander.  </p><p>Medic looks up again and meets Kaz’s stare, “Have you ever danced with a man whose real name you don’t even know?”</p><p>The calculating glint has flickered into one not unlike a hunter catching its prey. Like both the moon and the thrill of the hunt are gleaming in his stare. </p><p>“No,” Kaz lies, with all the practiced charisma of someone whose played this exact charade as many times as he’s tied his shoes, “But I’m guessing I’m about to, huh, doc?” he fires back, tone laced with something suggestive and too warm for his usual escapades. </p><p>The doctor stands up at that, extends his hand to the still sitting sub commander. Something about hearing the man who Kaz has seen sew up wounds with a steady hand and crack bones back into place stumble his way through flirting is... endearing. Dangerously so. </p><p>Kaz stands up anyway. The situation isn’t completely different to making a deal with a devil. Well, as much as a medic as angelic as this one could be. </p><p>They fall into an easy rhythm, medic leading, Kaz following. Stark opposites to what their positions are in MSF. It’s almost funny how natural the doctor is at this. Like he was meant to lead, not follow. Kaz is starting to think they’ve got the man trapped here. </p><p>The silence now feels fragile. Like if one of them were to speak some invisible glass would break and they would have to admit to each other what this means, what they’re both thinking. Giving life to carefully formed confessions on a warm night in the middle of the ocean. </p><p>Kaz almost can’t stand it. Hates the suffocating feeling that comes with being tied down to a person, a place. It’s something he hopes will go away with age, however optimistic that might sound. </p><p>Despite how much Kaz thinks he should push away and run, run all the way back to his office where he can bury himself in a mound of files and paperwork and reconnaissance and ignore the way this all feels tumultuous and foreboding, the medic is warm and the air is starting to cool. So he buries his face into the crook of the doctor’s neck and hopes to whatever god is looking down on this that he’s not coming off too obvious. </p><p>The other man is swaying a little more confidently, noticeably practiced motions leaking into his steps now. He seems simultaneously blissfully unaware of and yet completely understanding the litany of thoughts Kaz is having. Something about the medic tells Kaz that he wouldn’t even hold a grudge against him if he actually did run.  </p><p>Something about that is infinitely more scary that anything else. As if they’re standing on a precipice of genuineness. Or, dancing, Kaz guesses. </p><p>The doctor leans down so that his mouth is right next to Kaz’s ear and whispers a, “You know, the guys in the medical platform usually just call me Venom, subcommander.” </p><p>Kaz laughs before retorting with, “Yeah? The boss usually just call me Kaz.” </p><p>Everything about the exchange feels so foreignly meaningful, intimate in a way Kaz hasn’t felt in a while. </p><p>Then the music inside is dying down and Kaz is sighing, standing back, away from the warmth of the medic, Venom, he’s now been told. </p><p>“I... should head back to my office. Boss is heading out tomorrow,” Kaz begins with a very, painfully vulnerable tone of disappointment. </p><p>The medic mock salutes him and shoots him a wink before leaning in again to whisper a very hushed, “You know, my office is least busy at night.” </p><p>And just like that, the two of them have turned opposite ways and started stalking back to their respective places.</p>
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